


What do you need me to do?

by wargandproud



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Earthborn (Mass Effect), F/M, Ruthless (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:04:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5047846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargandproud/pseuds/wargandproud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard thinks over her life after Anderson's death on The Citadel</p>
            </blockquote>





	What do you need me to do?

_I am going to die._

The truth that Shepard had been trying to ignore blasted its way to the front of her mind as she felt Anderson fall still beside her. She knew she should feel sad, feel anything at all really, but all her emotions were drowned out with the revelation of her own, severely limited, lifespan.

There was nothing left to do. Her work was done. Years of fighting were over, and she would not spend the aftermath sipping cocktails on a warm beach. She would die here, alone. Soon.

This was ridiculous, she had no right to snivel over her own paltry existence. She shouldn’t have made it this far at all. She should have died on Torfan with her crew, should have died when the first Normandy went down. She thought of all the soldiers she’d sent to their deaths, lives snuffed out on strange planets far from home. She hadn’t given it much thought before now. She’d tried to tell herself that if she dwelled on such things they would consume her. Perhaps the truth was that she didn’t much care.

_Were they afraid, when they knew what was coming? Or were their souls wiped from their bodies so quickly they didn’t have time for fear?_

Shepard had time, as limited as it was. And she was afraid. No matter what happened, she’d always believed she would make it out of even the most ridiculously dangerous situations. Hell, she’d taken down a Reaper single handed, never once thinking that this time she actually wouldn’t make it. She’d always survived worse. There were always bigger monsters under the bed, waiting for her attention.

She thought of Kaidan, of waving goodbye to him as the Normandy took off, hopefully far from here by now. What was it he’d said? _“Don’t leave me behind.”_ She hadn’t planned to. She always came back. This was a temporary arrangement.

But it wasn’t, was it? No shady organisations were going to find her and drag her back from the edge of death this time. She wasn’t useful anymore. She hoped The Crucible worked. Otherwise she’d been a huge waste of credits.

The pain in her stomach worsened to a deep burning. She gingerly placed a hand to her sodden shirt, but her pulse did not quicken when she withdrew and saw the deep red staining her fingertips. It was not unexpected.

Perhaps it would be better this way. The fight had been so long, and by God she was _tired._

_They don’t need me anymore._

She’d offered everything she had, and they’d taken it. Hackett, Anderson, Cerberus. She was always the first to offer help, never turned down someone who said they needed her.

_No one needs you now. That’s why they’ve left you here._

No, they hadn’t left her, there was a fucking war on in case she hadn’t noticed, people had greater concerns than one selfish woman. She wouldn’t be thinking this if she wasn’t so tired.

_I need to sleep._

Perhaps she should sleep. It was late. Getting dark.

Maybe in the morning she would make breakfast with Kaidan, her cooking a little more haphazard than usual, it always made him laugh to see her making a mess in the kitchen. It was the one time she’d pretend to be worse at something than she actually was.

She let her eyes drift closed, felt her breathing slow.

Far away someone was calling her.

_“Shepard…..Commander!”_

Probably Joker, wanting her opinion on the route to somewhere-or-other. It could wait, she’d only just gone to bed.

“Shepard!”

It wasn’t Joker. This was an older man, his voice gravelly and harsh.

_Hackett._

Her eyes snapped open. Reality came rushing back, brining with it a pain more intense than any Shepard had ever known. At least last time was quick, a burst tube on her helmet and she’d known no more. To her shame she burst into messy tears. There was no one to look strong for any more.

_Please just let me die in peace._

With one hand pressed over her stomach, and one pushing against the wall behind her for support, Shepard struggled to her feet, only to fall flat on her face.

"Shepard, nothing is happening!"

_I haven't come this far just to die before the fucking thing fires._

On shaking limbs she damn near crawled to the console and pulled herself up while ignoring the screeching pain in her stomach. Her hand left a bloody print on the smooth plastic.

_This one thing._

_Can’t leave a job unfinished._

_Then I can rest._

Commander Shepard stood against the console, looking out at Earth, her home. She took a deep, painful breath, and asked for what she prayed was the last time,

“What do you need me to do?”


End file.
